What's Going On?
by STRONG Writing
Summary: The Winchester brothers are kidnapped by some Jack-in-the-Box who takes them to none other than 221 Baker Street, where Sherlock seems to have a bit of a demon problem. Actually Superwholock, but there are only two categories, so... Yeah.
1. Chapter 1

"Alright!" The perky man in the ridiculous bow tie spun around to face them. "Let's see what we've got here for you!" The Winchester brothers took gaping looks around. The room inside was bigger than the booth on the outside...?

Dean passed a glance to Sam, one asking something along the lines of 'What the hell is with this joker?' Sam shrugged in return, and his eyes darted warily back to the other man. He seemed to be from England, what with the way he spoke.

"Oh, yes, here-" he tossed at long striped scarf in Dean's direction. "We-" a shoe flew from his hand to Sam, who caught it only after it hit him in the face. "Go!" And he did a three-sixty twirl and hopped down the odd metal stairs. He was wearing a fake black mustache.

"Uh... What's this for?" Sam asked, politely though circumstances were different from their usual. This witness seemed to be a couple rungs short of a ladder.

"Disguises!" He shouted back, the grin on his face reassured them that he was, indeed, insane beyond measure.

"Yeah," Dean tossed the scarf aside. "Only, we don't need disguises. We only got into your loony-box so you could tell us what you saw last night!" He was getting impatient. Sam wondered whether or not to shush him.

"Well why didn't you say so?"

"You told us you had seen-"

"Come over and sit! Please!" The daft man gestured to a few swivel chairs attached to the floor up the stairs. He didn't wait to see if they followed, he flounced away. He didn't turn around, either, just played with some levers on the machine in the center.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, quirky half-smile as he bobbed his head towards the door. 'Dean, he's crazy, we should leave. Like, now!' His brother couldn't agree more.

"I'm The Doctor." And he pulled a piece down the counter. "And might I suggest holding onto something?"

The Winchesters had been backing towards the door when a suddent jolt rocked the room. They nearly fell, only clutching to each-other's shoulders stopped them from tumbling about as everything shook.

"What did I just say?" The Doctor asked, pushing colorful buttons and rotating wheels.

"The fuck are you doing?" "What's going on?" The brothers asked in unison, pulling themselves up with the stair railing.

"We're traveling! I'm a traveler! We're on our way to see a friend of mine-odd fellow, horrible people skills,"

"Oh, could you pull that lever? I can't reach it."

Dean shot The Doctor a glare, and ascended the stairs to the machine. "Which one?" There were ten of those things.

"That one there!" He flopped to the screen hanging from the top of this weird tube thing. He pointed with one hand and slapped the bar with the other.

"What are you, a fish?"

"Dean!"

Dean pulled the lever, and with a grinding noise the room stopped moving.

"Okay!" The Doctor stood up and straightened his suit's jacket. "Now, let's go."

"Go where?" Sam asked, "We're on the same street corner we were a minute ago!" He watched the loon walk to the door and knock on it.  
>"We're inside moron! Why are you knocking?" Dean huffed, noticing he was still wearing the mustache. Sam was still holding the shoe.<p>

"Shhhh. I don't know what time it is," The Doctor knocked on the door again. After nodding and muttering something about impatient hunters, he pushed open the door. He stepped out, gesturing for the two passengers to follow him. Dean and Sam exchanged another look, and followed him out.

"Hello?" The doctor called, quietly. Sam's mouth nearly hit the floor. How had they moved? There weren't any wheels, and certainly no way to get up stairs. "Sherlock? John? Oh.. and what was her name...?"

A short blond man with weary eyes and a look that suggested he just got out of bed trudged down the stairs. He flipped on the lights and blinked while his eyes adjusted to the change.

"John Watson! So good to see you again!" The Doctor bounded to his side and shook his hand, though it hadn't been offered in the first place. "Where's Sherlock gone?"

Dean was dumbfounded, Sam equally so, but he snapped out of his trance-like mindset and looked out the window. It was dark outside, save for street lights. "Where...?"

"Oh right! First-time travelers! Boys, welcome to 221 Baker Street, it's in England. This here is my dear friend John Watson." He gestured to the man beside him, asleep on his feet.

"Doctor... Would a more decent hour have been-" John started.

"Oh no. Sherlock sent me a text. Said to bring me the Winchesters. Said he needed them. Where is he?" The Doctor had been spinning around and poking things around the room while he spoke. "Oh, John, did you redecorate?"

"Sherlock hasn't been home in a couple of days, Doctor. He went with Lestrade to a rather difficult investigation..." He rubbed his eyes and straightened up.

"Oh no, no. No this isn't good. This is bad." The Doctor rubbed the skull on the mantle. "Where is the investigation?"

"Not too far." John slouched into an armchair. "I'm sure you'll find him eventually." He was already falling back to sleep.

"Hold up, hold on," Dean stepped up, holding out his hands and shaking his head. "Hey, Box Boy, mind explaining what's going on?" Sam nodded. The Doctor spun back. John seemed to only then notice their presence.

"Oh, who are they?"

"Either of you know how to make coffee?"

"What? Uh. Yeah, of course." Sam piped up. John pointed over his shoulder to the kitchen.

"Okay," The Doctor turned back to John. Damn that man liked spinning. "John, these two are Sam and Dean Winchester. Sherlock told me to bring them here, soon. So I did. But where is he?"

"I told you, he's with Lestrade." He rubbed his temples and stood. "Anderson has the files, they told me to stay home- God the floor is cold."

"Hey, uh, you have a bag of... distilled blood in your cabinet?" Sam called over from the kitchen, looking intently around their stove for coffee. He hoped that wasn't it.

"Experiment!" John called back. He was awake now. "Nevermind, it's fine."

"Great! Now, please tell me that Anderson isn't that mole-faced one with the hair-slick addiction." The Doctor pleaded, studying the room. Paper everywhere. They needed to clean this up. That woman renting them room wasn't their housekeeper, they should learn to clean after themselves.

"Yeah, that's him."

"Anybody know how we come into this?" Dean asked, and the two stopped chatting to look at him.

"Didn't I tell you? Sherlock Holmes-brilliant man, a little on the rude side-told me to bring you here."

"And? Who is he?"

"Wait-" Sam shut the cabinets and stepped back into the sitting room. "The Sherlock Holmes?"

"Huh? Is there more than one?" John asked, sarcastically.

"John!"

"Sorry."

"Okay, Nerdballs, tell me. Who is this guy?" Dean asked, starting to feel more comfortable in the situation. Enough to name-call, and that was comfortable enough.

Sam wasn't happy about being called Nerdballs, but he answered anyway. "Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective, Dean. He works cases the police can't figure out."

Dean snorted. "What the hell is a consulting detective?"

"He made it up. He's paid, but only for jobs he wants. Random people can come to them with things they think are wrong, and he'll either tell them to fuck off or he'll solve it." Sam was gushing. A hero of the modern world, the world's first and only consulting detective. And he'd asked for them?

"Unless he can't. Solve it, I mean."

"He's never missed a case." The Doctor piped in. Dean shot him another glare. "Well it's true!" He backed up as if personally offended."

"What does Mister Big-Shot want with us?" Dean folded his arms over his chest.

"Didn't I mention? He's having a bit of a demon problem."


	2. Chapter 2

"Can we have the full story please? You know, if you don't mind." Dean said, looking up at The Doctor.

"Wish I knew the full story." He replied, turning to John expectantly. "Do you know?"

"Me? No." The ex-army doctor shook his head and mimicked Dean's pose absentmindedly. "But you can't really believe demons exist."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean raised an eyebrow. The Doctor scooted backwards on his heels.

"You can't be serious." John saw on their faces that they certainly weren't joking. "You're serious?"

"Yeah."

"But—"

"Listen, if your friend called this jack-in-the-box to get Sam and me, it means that he's in a lot of trouble. We need to know where he is." Dean explained, patience starting the slow rejuvenating. "Tell us, and we'll get him back."

John shrugged. "Like I said, Anderson has the files. At the station, down at Scotland Yard." Sam was just getting more exited as this went on. No doubt because he got to fawn over the great and mighty Sherlock Holmes.

"So where is the little prick?"

"I don't know where he lives, but in the morning I'll take you to the station." John replied tentatively. How pleased would the force be to have the strangers looking through their files? Admittedly, they weren't too pleased to have him drop by as often as he did, since he wasn't exactly with the police.

"Okay," Dean piped up, clapping his hands together and forcing a grin. "So Jack-in-the-Box can take us home, and we'll come back in the morning!" The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the hunter.

"What? Why? It'll be morning soon. Think of this as a sleepover!"

"Maybe because even if we were going to hunt these demons, we'd need our gear. And, well, that's not here." The older Winchester gestured to the room around them to prove his point. Sam nodded in agreement.

"He's right you know. I don't suppose you have some salt rounds and holy water with you?" He chimed in, and John pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hmmm, John?" The Doctor asked expectantly. He shook his head. "That settles it! We need to find some… Did you say salt? Why?"

Before Dean could assault their kidnapper, Sam said, "Well, the salt was really just an example. It's a weakness some of them have, and it won't kill us, you know, if we miss or something. But we do need to get our things." His explanation wasn't the best and their companions gawked at him while the information sunk in.

The Doctor recovered first. "Well, where is your gear, then?"

"Trunk of our car."

"Which is?"

"It's really hard to miss. It's an old Impala, should be near the motel. You know, where you sort of flew away in your box." Dean shot Sam a look. He returned it. "So will you take us back to get it?"

"No need!" The Doctor pushed open the door to his Police Box and stepped inside. "I'll get it!"

"Hey! I ain't giving you my keys!" Dean protested loudly.

"Be quiet!" John hissed. "My landlady is asleep downstairs!"

"Yeah yeah. You're still not getting my car keys from me, clown!" He brushed off the shorter man's statement.

"No need!" The Doctor held up an odd screwdriver and flicked on a light.

"What the hell is that? What are you gonna do with that?" This loon seriously ruffled Dean's feathers.

"Sonic screwdriver!" And with that he closed the door behind him.

Sam held Dean back as he started chasing The Doctor, murder in his eyes. "He's gonna break into my baby!"

"Calm down! We have bigger problems!"

"Bigger than my baby? Sam, how could you!"

"I said be quiet!" John scolded, walking into the kitchen and overturning a jar, a jar full of an unrecognizeable substance. "I don't want to wake Mrs. Hudson, she's a busy woman."

"Sorry." Sam apologized for both of them, and as the box faded out of the room Dean flopped back into the chair by the desk. "So, do you… Was he acting different before he left?" The least they could do was get down to business.

"It's Sherlock. He's always acting different." John chuckled, pulling a bag out of the cabinet. "Nothing notable though."

"No odd feelings around the house? No being watched while nobody was there?" Dean inquired.

"Hmmm, no. Nothing."

"Smell any sulfur around?"

"Well, wait-" John placed a mug on the kitchen table and squinted. "He was acting a little odd, yeah. There were fewer childish remarks this past week. He was uncharacteristically quiet."

"Did he mention why? Drop hints? Leave notes? Move things around?" The boys had to admit they were interested. It wasn't often they left the country, what with Dean's fear of flight. Not to mention this Sherlock Holmes character sounded intriguing.

"Not that I recall, no." John heaved a sigh and walked back into the sitting room, flopping back into his armchair. Sam sat on the couch, it was awkward to be the only one standing in a strange house.

"What about the, ah," Dean smiled eerily and pointed across the room. The spray-paint smiley-face on the wall wasn't something you see every day. Not to mention the bullet holes.

"Oh, that. It's his way of relieving boredom. Nothing especially strange."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't ask any further questions. Then the waiting began, and Dean shifted his position every few seconds as time ticked by. John was nearly asleep again when they heard the noise. The blue box faded into their view and Dean automatically jumped up.

The Doctor stepped outside holding a dark green bag, full to the brim with knives and guns. He was, however, holding it at arm's length and making a face like he'd smelled something foul. "I brought your things."

"You better not have hurt my baby!" Dean grabbed the bag out of his hand and Sam rummaged through it to see if they had everything they might need. "How'd he do Sammy?"

"Seems like a good arsenal to me."

"Yeah, sure," Dean zipped the bag and tossed it onto the cluttered desk. "But we still don't know exactly what we're dealing with."

"I thought it was a demon?" John asked.

"Thanks, captain of deduction, but I mean which one? How many are there? You know."

"No need to get snappy. We'll figure it out!" The Doctor patted Dean on the back and then strolled out of the room and headed down the stairs.

"And where are you going?"

"It's morning, boys! Let's go!"


	3. AN

**Sorry guys, but I have no clue how to continue this, either that or I'm so lazy my mind's picking up hints that I don't want to continue. 'M not feeling it so much anymore. I'm game for somebody adopting it though, if you want to. Love to see how that comes out. **

**But if that doesn't happen, well, this is just going to end how it is. **

**So, yeah. **

**Until further notice this story is at a standstill. I may or may not come back to it, it depends on how… Well actually motivation for me tends to waver with the days. So I guess it depends on my mood. **


End file.
